


Another Cassandra

by October_Renaissance



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/October_Renaissance/pseuds/October_Renaissance
Summary: The effects of Strange's tincture are not so temporary as he had hoped and he is forced to consider the link between prophetic ability and madness.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Another Cassandra

The hallucinatory comparison of candles and souls makes for a horribly successful analogy. At first, this particular vision of Strange’s amused him to no end. He wasted hours chasing it to its logical conclusion and laughing when he caught it. As time went on, the candles became mundane. "Yes, _of course_ people walk about with candles in their heads, how stupid of me to not have realized sooner." But that everydayness has a sinister side.

As Strange watches old Mr. Norrell’s candle, small and dim, waver in the shadows of Hurtfew’s library, chasing the metaphor to its logical conclusion is nothing more than nightmarish. The candle is so close to burning itself out. He cannot stand the idea of being left in the Darkness to face the insurmountable task of freeing himself alone, as time contorts itself unfathomably around him. He will have to bury Norrell, and the world really will condemn him as a murderous practitioner of black magic. Though, there is no reason to suspect that the curse will be so merciful at to release either of them in death. Perhaps the body will still be bound to the Darkness, and Strange will drag it after him wherever he goes. He will have to put it in the cellar. He shudders.

Today is not a good day.

Norrell turns, ready to make some comment about the book he is reading, but stops when he notices Strange’s anxious staring. Norrell, a man easily disconcerted, feels agitation and annoyance grow in him at once. “For God’s sake, Strange,” he cries, “are you worrying about that candle business again? Enough! You _know_ it is not real.”

Strange is certain that it is not, but this understanding does not ease his fears. Madness has long been associated with prophetic abilities, and he cannot help but worry that in consuming the tincture of madness, he has opened himself up to such power. Perhaps this odd vision is some sort of warning they ought to heed. Yet at Waterloo, divination had done him no good. The Raven King could have prevented the battle’s bloody outcome, but Strange, for all his knowledge, for all his skill, could not. He may very well be equally helpless now. Foresight becomes a curse when one is not also gifted the ability to affect change.

Strange’s silence and unabated nervousness disconcerts Norrell even more. “One would think I am walking about with an ax hanging over my head. I have told you; I am in perfect health!”

“Of course,” says Strange, pretending to turn his attention to the text before him. “I am only imagining things as usual.”

When will they start comparing him to Cassandra?


End file.
